


i'll take everything

by discountghost



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coercion, Dubious Consent, EXO Obsession, Emotional Manipulation, Extreme Body Modification, God of War!Chen, Gods, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Piss kink, Post-War, Power Dynamics, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26297563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost
Summary: Oh.The thought is a simple one, and yet it hits him hard. Hard enough that his gut churns with a want that is by far stronger than it has been in years. The kind of wanting that has him tipping his head to the side as he observes the sacrifice before him. The other is defiant, and maybe that's what makes his blood boil. He's being stared at directly with an open disdain that — if looks other than his could kill — would have any man dead on the spot. His brows raise. What has he done to earn such ire from such a pretty face? He simply must know. But — he does know.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: K-Pop Ficmix 2020





	i'll take everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lolistar92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolistar92/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I'll give you everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353059) by [Lolistar92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolistar92/pseuds/Lolistar92). 



_ Oh. _

The thought is a simple one, and yet it hits him hard. Hard enough that his gut churns with a  _ want _ that is by far stronger than it has been in years. The kind of wanting that has him tipping his head to the side as he observes the sacrifice before him. The other is defiant, and maybe that's what makes his blood boil. He's being stared at directly with an open disdain that — if looks other than his could kill — would have any man dead on the spot. His brows raise. What has he done to earn such ire from such a pretty face? He simply  _ must  _ know. But — he does know.

His smile is a muted testament to the eagerness that dances behind his eyes as he descends the steps from his throne. The court balks, faces paling with each step down the bloody marble stairs he takes. They're a red not dissimilar from his suit, the train of his jacket trailing through the crimson liquid as they cool. He has no cares for it; it will only make his attire better, if anything. The other steps back, as if maybe he's come to the understanding of where he is. Of  _ who _ he is before. That's no fun.

Silence reigns with an iron grip almost as tight as Chen's as he comes to a stop on the bottom step. The man hasn't yet dropped to his knees in reverence, or to beg forgiveness, so maybe the fun will last a moment longer. He makes no move to fill the silence. Simply regards the other with the curiosity he's had since the man was escorted in. Escorts...perhaps those words were too kind for the people that stand on either side of the man. They're armed, splatters of blood painting their armor and skin like tender brushstrokes on a canvas. He wishes he could have seen the artists in action, but that's not what a god of war does. At least, not this time.

It was not Chen's war to fight, after all. He remains a witness to the results of greed and pride as men do battle for the littlest of things. Slights that are perceived and assumed rather than proven. Inconveniences that can be handled more peacefully if one is creative enough. But man is not a creative creature. Chen has since learned in his dethroning of the previous god.

He slips a hand into his pocket and waits, still. The man before him  _ wants _ , but not in the way that Chen does. There are words laced with venom on his tongue that he can't get out. It is either fear or magic that silences him, and Chen suspects it might be a matter of both. His brows furrow as he watches the man strain against the enchantment. He lifts a finger up and signals for someone off to the side.

There's never a clear indication of who he wants more, but the people of his court have learned. It's best just to step up all the same. Not to keep him waiting. Yixing has always been the fastest learner. The warrior steps up without hesitation, face bearing an easy smile that almost makes him seem harmless. Almost. Any wider and his canines come into view. Wider still, and the sides of his mouth would lift back ever so slightly to reveal another layer of flesh. Chen marvels, sometimes, at the wonders of his blessings. But they are nothing to his being.

Yixing, as he so often does, catches on without instruction. Fingers wrap around the man's throat as the warrior forces his lips open and Chen finds the reason for the other's imposed silence. They've cut his tongue. The nub of what remains lifts uselessly. It's crude, quick work and he finds that he doesn't appreciate it as much as they think he should. Why would they rob him of the chance to hear the pretty screams?

The chain across the man's nose glints in the light. Thin and silver. It matches his hair, a stained snow color. White tainted by the ashes of burning buildings. He looks, also, as though he's on the verge of an aneurism with everything he's holding back. Chen jerks his chin in Yixing's direction and the other forces the man's lips open wider. Around them, the men and women and creatures in between of the court watch on with anticipation. Chen doesn't heal. He is one to maim and carve his name into the flesh of his sacrifices, to mark them as his own. For this moment, they think he will do just that. They lean forward as if that will allow them to see better from way up there in the balconies. A glorified peanut gallery is what they are.

It's not the sort of screams he wants to hear, but he'll take what he can get. The nub of flesh pushes out of itself. Like a lizard's tail growing back, the appendage stretches out. A thin layer of skin sheds with each inch as it grows back excruciatingly slow. He blinks, both sets of eyelids sliding shut as he regards his handiwork with satisfaction. The tongue tapers out, long and thin in the human's mouth before it tears itself apart at the tip. It swims in a little lake of blood that pools in the man's mouth and when Chen jerks his head up again, Yixing forces the other's lips closed. Tips his head back so he's forced to swallow.

The man strains against the hold on him. There's a faint gurgling as he resists swallowing his own blood and flayed flesh from his newly formed tongue. It's a valiant attempt, but ultimately useless when Yixing pinches his nose. Or maybe it isn't. Red seeps through Yixing's fingers, spouts up like a fountain as the man spits it up. Yixing grimaces, smile gone now as he takes in the sight. Chen, though, cannot stop smiling. The brush of teeth against his gums as they attempt to force their way out leaves him with tingles. The man gags and is forced to swallow what remains to keep breathing. Pity; Chen almost thinks it would have been equally as spiteful for the man to have choked on his own blood before the god.

Instead, when the man finally stops coughing, his first choice is to speak. "Fuck you."

"Oh, you wish." It's hissed out eagerly. As if Chen has been waiting. And he has; since the moment the man was walked in.

The other seems taken aback by how smooth his voice is. He gags at the taste of his own blood in his mouth, fingers digging into Yixing's hand where it rests on his throat. The aggression is unprompted from his ruler, but Chen appreciates the thought. He sighs as the other struggles to order his words, and decides he'll take pity on the poor creature.

"They called you their priest, did they not? Is a man of the cloth supposed to speak to a deity like that?"

"You're no god of mine." When the priest spits, it's mixed with blood. A bubble pink spot on the floor that just barely misses the pristine black leather of his shoes.

Chen laughs. It's a sound that's high and brings lightning down from the heavens. Drags sleepy rumblings from the clouds as they hang over the battlefields he's deigned to be his throne room. The bodies of the fallen are statutes that outline the perimeter, encase his throne. Gory props of his decadent design.

"I am every man's god." Easy is the response that leaves Chen. "You hold your worship of me close to your heart, covet me in the darkest depths of your mind." He laughs again, taps a finger to the priest's forehead. "Name yourself, priest."

The other's lips work. His jaw is still held in Yixing's grip but he's had no problems talking before. His hair is pressed against his forehead by Yixing's other hand and if the devout man so much as twists his grip, the priest's neck will snap like a bird's wing.

"B-aekhyun." The word is mashed together between his lips, gaze elsewhere.

Yixing gives a less than gentle shake of the priest's head. His lips are close to the other's ear. "Speak up for His Majesty."

The priest tries again, but his general is not satisfied. Another of his head, another whispered and ground out instruction. "Look him in the eyes. You were so quick to do so before."

Surely, his neck must be feeling the weight being placed on him. Yixing's hand is heavy over his head. Pressing down on him. His own weight is being used against him on top of that. The priest groans, eyes closing for a moment before he turns his attention to the god-king.

"Baekhyun." There's more force to it this time, even as it's squeezed from betwixt ground teeth and a clenched jaw.

Chen caresses the skin he can reach of Baekhyun's face through Yixing's hands. The priest has, by the point, been forced to his knees before the god. One day, he thinks, he'll put himself there on his own.

He's always been a fan of daring escapes. He thinks that, in their riskiness, they give off the distinct stench of desperation and he tends to enjoy eating that up. Chen was all for them, really. But when he can't abide by is the sorry excuse for an escape that Baekhyun pulls two months in. The priest could surely do better. His steps echo through the tunnels, the veiny cracks in the metal pulsating as he moves through them. He's dirtying another red suit and maybe Minseok will be less than forgiving this time, but he thinks he can simper his way out of it if he tries. That's the least of his concerns.

On the forefront of his mind is the fact that his offering is trying to run off. And that he took  _ tunnels _ . Not the main gate, where he would need to slay a handful of guards to breach the walls into the outer wilds. Not the walls for sending the unfortunate to fend for themselves in the drying wastelands of civilizations past. But the tunnel for waste. As if he were something that could be considered trash. Chen sloshes through the filth now, a faint hum in the tunnels. They whisper to him, feeding off his irritation as they are seemingly designed to do. They can't have the remnants of their escapades coming back as specters of resentment, now could they?

He hears Baekhyun before he sees him. All that light is bound to get drowned when it lingers in a place like this. The priest reeks so heavily of his gods; it's hard to lose the stench of him. But they are not his gods now. Chen sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose as he steps forward. And there is his priest. Sniveling, on all fours. He  _ wants _ to see the other in this position at another time. But not here, in the filth and muck that's haunted beyond the priest's spiritual comprehension. This is the sort of displacement he's not had to deal with where he comes from. The other retches, a clear liquid that almost seems to glow.

"Are you satisfied?"

Baekhyun startles, hiccups as he turns his gaze up to Chen.

He's a mess. Chen's lips twitch, almost out of the smile they've formed. His eyes are rimmed red and his skin stained by the muck of the tunnels. The chain, he's still wearing it. The material pledge of his allegiance to his gods sits on his nose as if it were meant only for there. Sometimes, when Chen is in the mood to ruminate over a glass of blood red ritual wine, he thinks it was rather kind of him to allow him to have that. Now, he sees that that is a touch too much kindness. He lifts his gaze to the curve of the tunnel walls above him. There is no light to look into.

"Is this what your gods have inspired you to do?" He knows the other has no true answer to give. And anything he  _ does _ give will be nothing more than an excuse. He tips his head to the side. There's only the sound of the dirty waters rushing past his feet and the priest that fills the tunnel. "I don't like being ignored, priest."

He blinks and there's sludge being thrown in his face. It's nothing, really, but he supposes it makes the other feel better. And, if he's being honest, it's almost like a return to where he started. Before he became what he is. His smile, though, only widens at the thought. He slides a finger along the metal and stares down at his priest. It must look too wide; the other balks at the sight. His plan has essentially backfired. His escape is a failure. And Chen gets to be the one to break it to him.

If that doesn't fill him with glee, to crush the aspirations of escape, then there isn't much hope left for the world, then is there?

For what it's worth, his pretty pet priest is strong. He's not sure the depth of the strength, but he can recognize it. His brows rise as he regards the man, suspended by the chains that once were a sign of his fealty to his gods. Chen hopes it will serve as a lesson, as a means to rid him of the notion that he still has faith in the old gods. They will die and he will cease to remember them. But he's a kind, patient god. He likes to think as much. He glances down at the black leather gloves that spread over his fingers. They cut short at the bottom of his palm. He brushes a curl from his face, blinks two colored eyes up at the priest.

The other's jaw has been clenched for quite some time now. He worries, just a little, that might lead to some sort of problem. But that might be second to the marks the chains would leave. Chen isn't  _ cruel.  _ Okay,  _ maybe, _ he is. In this instance, though, even as he teaches the other a lesson he is not. The chains won't do more than leave the faint imprint of their shape on his skin. There's a layer of protections coating them for the exact purpose he's using them for now. Baekyun's legs are spread open, and the points at which he's being held up. Upside down, his hair falls forward and the damning chains of his faith fall over his eyes. His hands are bound above his head, loosely, but not loosely enough that he could break free of them. Aside from that, he must be tired. All that running, and now this.

The chains pressed into his fair skin, the color draining where they cinched tight. They loop from his thighs to his calves, pull them close. Chen slides a finger over the line that holds him to the chandelier. It creaks with his weight, sways slightly as the priest struggles just a touch. He looks like a trapped mouse, put on display for Chen to enjoy. And the god-king does.

"Do you know why you're like this?" His voice is a lilt away from sounding like a scolding schoolmaster. That might be a fantasy to explore later on, but he supposes that might be something Junmyeon has been interested in. "Why you are here now?"

The priest says nothing, just clenches his jaw harder. Chen has half a mind to pry his lips open and force the words from him. But - this is meant to be a learning experience. He would learn nothing if Chen forces him. Below their feet, as if it were some moving carpet, is a view of the world as Chen sees it on the regular. Sprawling villages and cities; slums with people vying for the best of their lives. But what he loves to see most are the plumes of smoke and fires that rage without hope of being stopped unless someone divine intervention is made. That may very well happen, but until that moment, he can listen to the screams and cries. This is what plays out under Baekhyun as he hangs suspended. It has a different meaning to him as it does to Chen.

The priest thrashes around as he comes to understand what he's seeing. What's happening. Chen has to laugh at the panic on his face. As if he is capable of stopping it. As if he is capable of doing anything but watching while the world he knew falls apart before him. But this is the way of war; there is destruction before there is the uneasy settlement as the victors get comfortable. He licks his lips as Baekhyun begins to sob. The tears slide past his lashes, up his eyebrows, and disappear into his hairline. The god-king coos at the sight. Brushes gloved fingers through the other's hair until he jerks away.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice sounds so small. So helpless.

"Doing what, my pet?" He cocks his head to the side, blinks.

" _ This! _ Why are you showing me this? Why are you hurting them?"

"Because of you." Chen's smile spreads wide. So wide that he feels the flap of his cheek lift and there is the extra layer of flesh that allows for his jaw to unhinge. He's the prototype, after all. Yixing is modeled in his image now. And when Baekhyun learns his lesson, he might be the same. In some way. But for now, Chen relishes in the horror that widens Baekhyun's eyes and has his mouth open like a gaping fish. His teeth, the real ones, flick out. They cut his gums just the slightest and he can feel the beads of blood as they well up. His jaw drops more and the extra bit of flesh is stretched out. The little drops of venom course down his fangs. Teeth sharp as knives wink at Baekhyun as his struggling increases.

Facing a god is a terrifying thing. "I do thissss...for you."

"Why? What did I do? They don't deserve this."

"You disssobeyed." He crouches low, his suit pants clinging to his legs with the action. His head rests in his hands as he watches the other dangle above the screaming masses. Bodies writhing as the flesh is cooked off of them. "You had only to accept your fate and maybe they would be ssspared." He shrugs, nonchalant. He does have some power of the course of war, only in the ultimate outcome. But there are casualties in all wars. Just as there are survivors. "I could sssave them. Sssome of them. If you wisssh for it hard enough."

Baekhyun's gaze is nothing short of incredulous. He's surprised the priest is still holding up, at least somewhat mentally. He remembers the way Yixing had taken him in the first time he had seen his teeth. Had stared down his maw. But, then he'd been trying to  _ eat _ the general.

"What do I." The priest swallows, lets out a frustrated groan. "What do I have to do?"

"Devote yourssself to me. Your godsss don't want you now. They cannot have you anymore."

Baekhyun's lips tremble, head tips back. He can't say he's considering it. It's this, or more die. Chen likes these kinds of choices. Choices that have so much weight one body cannot shoulder it alone. That is, of course, where he comes in. His fingers tap against his cheeks.

"Look! There'sss more dying."

"O-okay! I'll...I'll. Do it. I'll do it."

He's so agreeable, what with the weight of all those lives left on him. Chen can work with that. "Well, then. Get on with it."

Baekhyun sways a moment longer, glances back to the screaming villagers. Licks his lips. His face is reddening and his limbs are looking a little more colorless. "I."

"Hm?"

"I denounce the gods of old. The gods of ages past."

"Keep going." Chen stands slightly, hands sliding down to his zipper. Baekhyun hasn't noticed, or maybe he's struggling to divide his attention.

"My allegiance falls with Chen, the divine of war and chaos. Of destruction and the conquering of lands." His voice shakes as the words leave him. The zipper goes down. Baekhyun shuts his eyes, swallows. This shouldn't have hurt him so; maybe there's still a bit of attachment.

By the time Chen has gotten his cock out, half-hard to the music of sacrilege, the priest is fully in tears again. He places a hand on his hip as the other's snivels away, head tipping to the side.

"Would you like to receive the sacrament?"

Baekhyun nods. The chains rattle with how fast he does. How eager to please. Chen smiles as he pulls up the chains. Baekhyun is pulled higher up. His head is level with Chen's crotch, as it should have been from the beginning. His fingers dance over the other's jaw, his lips falling open once more. He wonders, marginally, what the other thinks he'll be getting.

Suspended as he is, this would be difficult for him. Had been difficult for the others when they first tried it.

But he seems like an eager enough student, open for learning. And fast. His other cock has the other struggling to breathe just a bit. Anticipation? Or perhaps he's been upside down for too long. The priest lifts himself with some effort, tongue reaching out to close the distance. Before he can, Chen rips the chain from where it rests on his forehead. It seems less symbolic, but the surprise distracts the other from his cocks slipping into his mouth. His lips look exceptionally pretty stuffed full as they are. The side strain with the stretch. That, in time, will change. Everything about the other will change. His tongue may have just been the start to a gradual evolution.

The other whimpers and he feels them through his dicks. The vibrations coursing in tandem. He watches as the other's cock twitches, leaks just a little. He takes pity but drags only a finger over the underside. Traces the veins. He rocks his hips a little, though the other isn't able to take much more of him. There's two dicks there, after all.

But there's a certain sort of sacrament the other will earn. He feels the coil in his stomach just as he looks down to the other blinking up at him. Tears sit precariously at the corner of his eyes, as if trying to decide to if they wish to fall or not. The priest's eyes widen as another decision befalls him: swallow or choke.

Certainly, there are better ways to teach a lesson aside from pissing in someone as if they were a personal toilet, but that comes with being Chen's. The priest is  _ his _ . He'll need to earn his seed, a true blessing, when he's more obedient. The warmth of Baekhyun's mouth increases as he fills the other up. He can see the man's throat working, deciding between closing up or trying to swallow in the opposite direction.

"You can do it; acccccept your savior." He drags his fingers over the other's belly and the man's cock twitches. His hands slide down to the other's throat, not quite rubbing at it but not outright squeezing. He watches some of his piss trickles out of the corner of the other's mouth. It drips down to the floor, over the village. Rains start from the sky, fires soon dying down as if he's given them their divine intervention. His frame rumbles with a laugh.

Baekhyun's own fingers twitch, body quivering with his efforts. Chen coos at him the whole way. The priest suckles at his cocks like he's at his mother's teat and maybe the god-king preens. So pretty,  _ so good. _ The faithful are rewarded. The chains snap and soon it is only Chen holding Baekhyun up. The other gasps for air as Chen pulls out of him, tucks himself away with one hand, rights him with another. He'll need a massage and some rest to get the feeling in his legs again.

Chen offers him the same too-wide grin when the priest scrambles towards him on all fours. Just as he thought, the other is before him on his knees. And Chen has made him get there of his own volition. His brows raise as the other fumbles, struggles to even stay on his knees. He latches on to the god's thighs and peers up.

"My lord, my king." The rasp to his voice is nice. Spit and piss trail down his cheek, mingle on his skin. "Your mercy is great."

Chen lifts him up once more. "Of course, it isss."

The other's scream dies on a moan as his fangs sink into his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed reading!


End file.
